


Centennial: Beginnings

by the49thname



Series: Centennial [1]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 16:29:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2658698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the49thname/pseuds/the49thname
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a first time for everything. The first time you draw breath. The first time you fall and cry. The first smile, the first laugh, the first love, and the first heartbreak. Part of a 100-part fic based on 100 themes. Tsukiyama/Kaneki, M rated for sexual themes and mild/moderate violence, spoiler warning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Centennial: Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I've started a 100-part fic challenge on tumblr where I'll be writing 100 ficlets based on 100 themes. This fic collection is called Centennial and this ficlet is for the theme Beginnings. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Fandom: Tokyo Ghoul  
> Pairing: Shuuneki (Tsukiyama/Kaneki)  
> Song the fic was written to: Kaneki Ken by Yutaka Yumada  
> Warnings: M rated for sexual themes and mild/moderate description of violence, as well as spoilers for the end of the Tokyo Ghoul manga.

There is a first time for everything.

The first time you draw breath. The first time you fall and cry. The first smile, the first laugh, the first love, and the first heartbreak - he lived off of these firsts, these beginning experiences that would define everything in succession.

After all he was Tsukiyama Shuu; Gourmet and chaser of the sublime.

Yet instead of chasing the sublime he was now chasing shadows, shadows of a being cursed to succumb to darkness and death, destruction and depravity. Kaneki Ken was sublime indeed but, perhaps, the joy of the chase would not outlast the consequences.

Nevertheless in his shadow he stood, driven by need, driven by curiosity and desire, and perhaps a tiny seed of a feeling he was not familiar with. That first step into Anteiku was to prove his undoing, warmth and bitter coffee flooding through his veins amidst a scent and _emotion_ that grabbed hold of his heart, claws digging deep, choking the air in his lungs.

And so the seed was sown.

One step. Two steps. Three and forthwith, and so the infamous Gourmet became enthralled with one destined for a doomed fate. He was enticing, so very enticing and _innocent_ , wide eyes and hidden smiles and the trembling countenance of one so young fated for a life so full of tragedy. And it was _addictive_ , this feeling that left him trembling and without control. His life had been one mediocrity after another, endless streams of pets and pests, divine tastes soon outlived. This feeling, this sprouting seed taking root within his heart, was painfully addictive and the moment he found himself lying on the cold stone floor in a pool of his own blood, with a sweet taste lingering on his tongue, he knew he would rather die than abandon the treasure he had found.

And so he found himself, a friend amongst enemies, searching for the one who had his heart in his unknowing grasp. Yet when he returned, broken and bruised - _so terribly broken_ \- Tsukiyama found himself on the precipice of a cliff without a bottom – the shadows had lengthened, the light and hopeful naïveté had faded, and yet he found himself unable to turn away from his chosen path, for he was a simple rat following a pied piper with hair as white as snow, and there was no turning back.

Soon it became obvious that he was not to be trusted; after all who would trust a man – no, not a man – a _ghoul_ so obsessed with the tastes of the sublime that he would throw all into ruination for the smallest tiniest _taste_ of his heart's desire. So again, and again, and again and again and _again_ he would have to prove himself worthy, worthy of the shadow he clung to with bloodied fingertips. And worthy he proved himself to be – a sword, a hidden dagger beneath a pillow sodden with tears. He was needed, he was useful, and soon he became _wanted_.

And so the first flower bloomed.

Perhaps it was Kaneki's fragility that led him to seek out his once-enemy-now-friend, or perhaps it was the increasing insanity dwelling stagnant and rotten behind his tired eyelids – I, I, I, human, ghoul, _human_ , _ghoul_ \- or, perhaps, it was simply the knowledge that one person, if only one, would stand by him no matter how much blood he spilt.

So there stood his need, his desire, vulnerable and fragile and _breaking_ as he clung to his shirt, eyes blurred with tears. _Am I a good person?_ he asked, voice tentative and trembling. Where words should have been Tsukiyama's heart instead sat, lodged in his throat pattering feebly in tune to the one beating against his chest. He choked on his words, choked on his heart, mind blank as a gaze met his own, nervous and searching, _searching_ for that one small sign that he was allowed to live, allowed to feel right and whole and okay.

So, where words failed, kisses spoke volumes.

But his intention had been to anger, for anger was far more preferable to the shattered individual clutching desperately at his shirt, at his heart. Expecting rebuke and refrain, an open door slammed shut at his heel, he instead was met with a kiss so desperate it left his heart aflutter. A _kiss_ , then another, then _another_ and _oh_ he was drowning, drowning in this fervent emotion blooming within his fluttering heart.

And as their eyes met, hearts fluttering, fingers trembling, an unspoken question was given and answered with a simple acknowledgement that, yes, this was what _they_ wanted.

Lips met lips, tentative first steps from insecurity to resolute desperation. His fingers tangled themselves in snowy locks, trembling in the wake of an emotion so deeply felt it was almost _painful_. With each touch, each caress, each embrace his heart bloomed, flowers spilling upon one another until he felt as if his chest was full to the brim, aching and trembling and overflowing with the desire he had kept shackled and abated for _so very long_. That dark and all-encompassing need to have more, and more, and more and more and more _consumed_ him, until the boy in his arms was pressed tightly against a wall, his lips drifting from mouth to cheek to neck to shoulder to the small scar left as a remnant of the fight that had defined the very desire consuming him. Teeth found skin and soon that sweet _sweet_ taste was there, dancing on his tongue and filling his body with fire and aching need and he shuddered at the pure _pleasure_ flooding through his veins.

A wince, a gasp, and soon he found himself flung to the floor, hands pulling at his hair and eyes wide with a feeling that left him breathless. He no longer felt the predator - no, now he was the prey and the look he was receiving was _devouring_ him. When their lips met he felt the shiver run up Kaneki's spine, the slight pause as he tasted his own flesh on his tongue, the intake of breath before he kissed with fervour and mindless abandon. Trembling fingers undid shirt buttons, lips trailing down soft skin before pausing over a fluttering pulse. Teeth dug into flesh and bit and tore and it was _agonising_ yet pleasure shuddered down his spine; he found himself arching into that painful touch, a moan leaving parted lips. He felt warm blood trickle down his shoulder, pooling onto the carpet beneath him, probing fingertips digging into the nape of his neck, a shaking body slowly sinking into his own.

It was with a jolt that Tsukiyama felt the hardness pressed against his leg, the realisation that his flesh - no, _he_ – was pleasuring the boy trembling above him. So with bloodied fingertips he pulled Kaneki away from the sinew of his shoulder to his lips, tasting his own flesh on his tongue, fingers leaving streaks of scarlet through snow white hair. A slow grinding of hips left them breathless, mouth and tongue and hesitant touches dragging them both into a state of warm dizzying arousal. Clothes were soon flung to the side, skin meeting skin, fingers dragging slowly down trembling limbs to meet at trembling hips, and soon they were left shuddering and gasping into each other's caresses, foreheads pressed together, eyes fluttering closed.

Yet it was still not enough - not enough to satiate the desire coursing like fire through every nerve, fibre and bone in his body. He wanted more, more and more and _more_ until every part of him knew his touch, knew the feeling of his hands and lips and tongue and teeth until he fell apart at the seams. With desperation he breathed a silent request, hazy eyes and parted lips and trembling fingertips speaking the words he found himself unable to voice. And yet he knew - he knew by the small shudder he felt tumble down Kaneki's spine and the teeth biting at his lower lip and the gaze that made his stomach _flip_.

But such desire was left with an undertone of vulnerability, and the boy above him was so fragile at that moment he felt his heart jump into his throat, choking him and leaving him breathless. And so he gave a small smile, gently stroking a cheek with one hand while the other brought shaking fingers to his mouth, lips parted and scarlet with drying blood. This gesture was answered with a look mixed with both relief and arousal, a grateful smile and eyes that followed every movement his lips made, every swipe of his tongue against bloodied fingertips. And it was an almost curious gaze that Kaneki fixed upon his fingers as they were pulled down, down from chest to navel to hip bones before curling under trembling thighs and -

Now it was _his_ turn to feel fragile, a sudden vulnerability clutching at his heart. Burying his head into a bloodied shoulder he felt his eyelids flutter closed at the invasive and clumsy movements Kaneki made, hands falling to his sides where fingers danced a nervous pattern on the floor below until _oh_ \- that _feeling_ \- and his fingertips dug into carpet as his back arched and pleasure tumbled from the nape of his neck to the tips of his toes with a suddenness that left him crying out and clinging desperately to the floor below for some semblance of reality before -

It was over and fingers drifted to curl around his hips to be replaced with something bigger and _harder_ and he almost wished he hadn't agreed to this set-up but then - a sigh. A soft sigh breathed into his shoulder, so with a hesitant glance Tsukiyama turned his head and saw half-lidded eyes and parted lips, trembling shoulders and shaky breaths. As he shifted his hips for a more comfortable position he felt more than heard the moan Kaneki gave, and a rush of that unfamiliar feeling had all but consumed his heart as he rolled his hips, pulling parted lips towards his own.

And then they were both consumed by it, consumed by desire and this unspoken feeling claiming their hearts and souls. A name was being moaned into his ear - _his_ name - with such need and fear and uncertainty that he suddenly knew what it felt like to be wanted and it was _unbearable_. Each movement only furthered the pleasure coiling like a spring within him, each cry of his name adding to the tumult of feelings building and building - and it was going to crash over his head and leave him _broken_ on jagged rocks at the bottom of the cliff he was falling off and - this was it and he couldn't bear it any longer and a name was tumbling past his lips and -

It was over.

An eternity seemed to pass, limbs shaking as he struggled to breathe, eyes wide with fingers clutching tightly at the boy trembling above him. His heart was in full bloom, the seed long since passed to bear fruit, and as he lay in the warm embrace of the boy he undoubtedly _needed_ by his side he realised, almost too late, that this would be the beginning and end of his freedom to dance from one desire to the next, picking and choosing what would best satisfy his needs and curiosities.

No - from now until the minute he died, for better or for worse, Kaneki would be the only thing - no, _person_ \- he would ever want.

There is a first time for everything.

The first time you draw breath. The first time you fall and cry. The first smile, the first laugh, the first love, and the first heartbreak - and several weeks later as Tsukiyama Shuu lay upon a cold rooftop, tears blurring his vision as he watched a single figure smile down at him sadly before walking away into the shadows, he realised he was in love and it was far _far_ too late to take it back.

_I'm tired of not being able to do a thing._


End file.
